They require the spectacle of fasting and prayer--a view of a candidate seated in sackcloth and ashes in outer darkness.

You've got to wait for the Lenox, Plank." "I am waiting," said Plank, squaring his massive jaws.
"You've got to," growled Mortimer, emptying his glass aggressively.
Plank looked out of the window, his shrewd blue eyes closing in retrospection.
"Another thing," continued Mortimer thickly; "the Kemp Ferralls are disposed to be decent.

I don't mean in asking you to meet some intellectual second-raters, but in doing it handsomely.

I don't know whether it's time yet," he added, with a sidelong glance at Plank's stolid face; "I don't want to push the mourners too hard ...

Well, I'll see about it ...